


no longer the dancing queen

by fleurmatisse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurmatisse/pseuds/fleurmatisse
Summary: Dean is 18. It doesn't mean a damn thing.





	

Dean is 18. It's midnight in January and too cold to be outside, but he's getting sick of the motel room he's sharing with Sammy so he hunkers down just outside the door and pretends his jacket is warm enough. Now he can buy cigarettes, lottery tickets, even become a Marine like his old man. But he's been trying to stop smoking because Sam won't shut up about diseased lungs, and they don't have money to waste on the lottery, and Dean could give a shit about the military.

They're still holed up in some random town while Dad hunts and drinks and acts like Dean hasn't been looking after Sam since he was five years old. Nothing has magically changed since the clock struck 12.

Except Dean could leave.

He doesn't think about it very often, because Dad would be beyond furious and Sam would be alone, but it's there: the option to get out. He's only thinking about it now because Sam was acting weird all night and when Dean finally had enough and asked what the hell was up with him, Sam had looked anywhere but Dean's face and said, "Don't leave without me."

Which was ridiculous, because, "I'm not going anywhere, weirdo."

But Sam just frowned and said, "Promise," so Dean rolled his eyes and said, "Promise," and then, "Go to sleep already, you have school tomorrow."

He'd waited until Sam was out cold to leave the room and now here he is, wishing his birthday wasn't in the dead of winter so at least he could sit outside to think without turning into a popsicle. He knows that Sam would go if it were him turning 18, but Sam is 13 and angry and calls Dad a tyrant when it's just him and Dean, which, yeah but at least he cares. And Dean is angry half the time too, but the rest of the time he's just tired and worried, about Sam or Dad or Bobby, and he'd really like a break that doesn't risk Dad's wrath, but. 

He doesn't want to be on his own; he never has been. Even when Sam was too small to be good company, he was there, and then Dad met Bobby so he had somewhere to leave them with someone to watch them. He could go to Bobby's. Hitch a ride, hop on a bus. Bobby never turned them away before, but that was knowing they'd be going back out with John sooner or later. Even if he was willing to let them stay for a little while, John would certainly find them. Because it would be them; there's no way Dean would ever let Sam be left alone for days, even weeks, on end, waiting for Dad to get back. And there's no way Dad wouldn't go looking for them then, but if it was just Dean, well. That one's not so certain. 

Not that he even wants to leave in the first place, Dean reminds himself. Just because Sam wants to be like everyone else doesn't mean Dean feels the same way. He likes hunting and knowing things other people don't, and if all he has to do in return is look after Sam when Dad goes out on his own, that's not so bad. Even if Dad's hunts are starting to take longer. That just means he thinks Dean's more responsible than he used to. ("Or that he doesn't care," Sam shouted at him once; Dean had to leave before he smacked him for it.)

By the time Dean has rid himself of the thought, most of him has gone numb. Getting up takes more effort than he expected but the clock in the motel room shows he'd been outside for almost an hour. Sam wakes up when Dean accidentally kicks the wall trying to toe his boots off, and he turns on the light before Dean can shield his eyes.

"Why is your face so red?" he asks. Dean finally frees his feet and buries himself in his bed; if he had any birthday candles he'd be wishing for a thousand blankets right about now.

"I went for a walk," he says, because that sounds better than I was sitting just outside the door thinking about abandoning our dad. 

"Around the whole town?" Sam says.

"Your lips are blue."

"I'm fine," Dean says. "Stop telling me what colors I am and go back to sleep."

Sam rolls his eyes and turns out the light. Dean hears him shifting around and drops his face in his pillow, hoping to thaw the chunk of ice that is his nose. He nearly jumps out of his skin when something drops on top of him, but it's just another blanket. He squints over at Sam's bed, but he's already pretending to be asleep again so Dean adjusts the blanket around him as tight as it will go and closes his eyes. 

He's 18. He can buy cigarettes and lottery tickets and become a Marine. He looks after his brother and spends too much time worrying about his dad. He could leave this motel and never look back. But nothing has changed.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed these dean feelings, I'm on tumblr @ hallucifern if u wanna see my reluctant descent back into this fandom


End file.
